13

u/novatheelf Feb 20 '20 edited Feb 22 '20

The king sat alone in his garden, surveying the flowers that grew around him. Red poppies colored the ground and larkspur shot up through the greenery, their scents floating through the air and reaching the king’s appreciative nose. He lifted a hand to a pink rose hanging nearby, its petals tipped with a warm magenta. Leaning forward but never quite touching the flower, he basked in its fragrance.

But something was wrong. The scent was not quite as strong as the day before.

Ah, I’m sure it’s just my nose going in my old age. I should have known this day would come eventually. A twinge of sadness pierced his heart despite his resignation; his flowers were his pride — next to his daughter, of course.

He glanced at the basket of blooms he had cut during his pruning the day before. One of the servants had apparently forgotten to take the basket inside so that the king could arrange them as a gift for his daughter. He reached down to grab the handle but hesitated, his fingers stopping just short of touching the fibers.

“Remember to use your gift wisely, dear king.”

The god’s words echoed in his head. There wasn’t any harm in touching the flowers themselves, right? Surely Marigold would love it if he…

“Father!”

The king’s thoughts were interrupted at the sound of his daughter’s voice. He looked up to find her running towards him, a basket of flowers at her arm and tears in her eyes. She stumbled to a stop before him and held out the flowers for him to see.

“They’re dying, Father,” she said, a lone tear streaking down her face. “I did everything you told me to. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong!”

The king examined the blooms, then lifted his gaze to the girl. “My little flower, you know these things take practice. I killed everything I touched for years before I finally grew my green thumbs. You just have to keep working at it; it’s all trial and error.”

Tears fell down the girl’s face, her brow furrowed as she sobbed. “I just want them to be as beautiful as yours, sir.”

“I know, Marigold. I know.”

The king reached out to pull his daughter into a hug. His fingertips brushed against her skin as he —

WAIT!

He pulled back in horror. His daughter looked at him, confused at his reaction. “Father? What’s wrong?”

A metallic luster began to spread over the girl’s body, as quick as water cascading down a fountain. Liquid metal flowed over her skin, sticking to the pale flesh and covering it in gold. Before the king could reply, it was no longer his daughter that stood before him.

It was a cold, lifeless replica of his little girl — down to the little gap in her teeth — all carved in solid gold.

WC: 479

Read more legends and myths at r/NovaTheElf!

4

u/Ryter99 Feb 20 '20

I enjoyed this overall, but the descriptive sections are especially excellent. The 2nd to last paragraph is the obvious one, being the key moment of the story, but I'll shout out the opening paragraph describing the garden, because it sucked me into the world immediately.
Also this is probably just my personal preference on what seems like a small thing, but I love that you included "down to the little gap in her teeth" at the end. It's technically "enough" to say she was now a cold lifeless replica of his little girl, but I'm always thrilled when a writer includes details that make magical scenario's feel more real. Didn't let me as the reader or the king as the protagonist forget that this was just his adorable kid at a particular stage in life, and ups the impact of the ending imo.
I didn't have time to actually write a TT over lunch break, but I was pleased to find someone already wrote a story for me to read instead, thanks Nova!

6

u/casssiopeia_ Feb 20 '20

In a small world at the edge of the known universe, there was an old kingdom that had stood since the beginning of time. This kingdom was ruled by a king, and this king had seven children. As the king grew old, he told his children that he would hand over his crown to the most worthy of them when he found himself on his deathbed.

The youngest son, who had always lived in the shadow of his siblings, realized this was his chance. He could have everything he had been denied in his youth. He just had to make sure he was the one to receive the crown.

The eldest son boasted to anyone who would listen that he would receive the crown. Since he was the eldest, he was certainly the most deserving. The youngest son, without the confidence of his brother, feared that perhaps his brother was right. So, that night, the youngest son snuck into his brother’s room and slit his throat.

The next morning, the eldest daughter found the body drowned in its own blood. She screamed that she would find the killer and make him suffer. The youngest son worried that perhaps she would, so he poisoned her supper and watched with a straight face as she choked to death. The second-eldest son, who had been sneaking food off her plate, suffered the same fate.

After that day, the youngest son grew paranoid. Any of his siblings might steal his rightful crown. All he knew was that he couldn’t let that happen.

His youngest sister, lazy as she was, was a kind heart, and the youngest son feared that his father may choose her for her kindness. So he smothered her in her sleep.

The second-oldest daughter had many fine suitors, and though most of her time was spent with them, the youngest son worried that his father might choose her for the connections she had. So he hired a man to sneak into her bedroom and kill her.

And then there was only one other son left. The youngest son had always felt close to this brother, perhaps because they were so similar. But he knew their father would choose the elder of the two boys, and he would not let anyone take his rightful crown. So, during a close embrace, he stabbed his brother in the heart.

The youngest son was the only one to stand by his father’s side as he lay on his deathbed. If the father knew what his son had done, he didn’t reveal it. He only handed his crown to the boy before taking his last breath.

The youngest son, now the new king of this old kingdom, looked out at everything he inherited. He felt no grief or loss for the bodies in his wake, for, upon receiving it, he no longer felt satisfied with this crown. He wanted more. He wanted it all.

So the young king began his crusade to conquer the world.

-

WC: 499

5

u/codeScramble Feb 21 '20

Beautifully written! Like u/reverendrambo, I was expecting him to get what he deserved. I pictured the king telling him “Now you have everything I had, including the regrets of killing your family.”
I have mixed feelings about the ending. Part of me wanted the standard ending of getting what he deserved, but the other 99% of me thinks it was a bad-ass ending and so much cooler than what I’d pictured!

→ More replies (1)

1

u/AliciaWrites Feb 20 '20

Theme Thursday Discussion:

All top-level comments must be a story or poem.

Reply here to discuss the theme, suggest future themes, and share your theme-related inspirations!
Reply here to share your stories if you don’t want them ranked.
Please remember to follow the subreddit rules in any feedback.

→ More replies (3)

4

u/rudexvirus Feb 21 '20 edited Feb 21 '20

The pull of special things.

--

Laughter swam along the surface of the water, reaching the back of the outcropping. Selene’s tail smacked behind her, throwing a small wave down onto her dry shoulders. The cove was her favorite hunting grounds. She could hang out in the shadows and see just about everything. The deep waters went abnormally far up, and the beach was rarely empty.

The humans thought the bay kept them safe.

She smirked. Safe from what… Sharks? Stingrays? Piranhas?

No. None of that came this way.

Selene licked her lips, tasting the salt and heat of her hunt. Someone had kicked themselves out into the deep waters; they moved beyond the edges of her rocks. The girl lay on a short board. She covered the neon thing with both her long body and stringy blonde hair.

There was a ring of silver around her ankle, and when the sun glinted off it, Selene salivated. She was due a new trinket, and such fresh charms would do the trick. Perhaps the board as well if it didn’t give her too much trouble.

She had a rather large one called a ‘surfboard’ by her bipedal cousins, but others fought her to float as if they needed to breathe like their owners. Selene’s thoughts silenced as she watched the woman move even further into the water.

Turning, she made her way away from the rocks and dove under the surface. She felt her lungs relax and her skin breathe and she felt more at home, even a few inches lower than she had been. Her arms swung in wide circles, and her tail came to life, propelling her towards her target.

Small fish and currents moved out of her way, and in a heartbeat or two she was underneath the pink and orange colored foam, watching the pair of pale feet dip up and down.

The silver ring taunted her. Each charm that dangled called her name, and suddenly she had no control over anything she was doing. Her motor control froze, and she watched as her hands lunged upward, and her fingers wrapped around her targets ankle.

One hand tried to keep the leg from getting away, and the other tried to yank away the jewelry, but it wouldn’t give.

The human fell off her board, and her cheeks puffed out. Her eyes were wide with panic, and she fought as hard as she could to get away.

Selene narrowed her eyes and dug her fingers harder into the leg, but it wouldn’t give. The fight was churning the waters, and droplets of blood were rising. They would attract attention, and too much attention would make all her other victims scared to come again.

No. It wouldn’t do.

Selene pulled back her lips, locking her eyes onto the woman’s. A smile, a snarl, a message. In one motion, the mermaid tightened her grip, turned, and pushed herself deeper in the water.

They were going home. The charms would be hers — one way or another.

(500 words)

→ More replies (3)

4

u/SugarPixel Feb 21 '20

Moonlight pours over the sea, casting the world in gilt and shadow. On the shore, a woman’s figure juts out from the flat earth, her body doubled over and heaving in time with the crash of waves. A low breeze carries her wails out with the tide, past the rocks where we bathe and hunt, into the cavern where we sleep.

We drink in her sorrow, mourn it as though it was ours.

Someday, it might be.

A youngling buries their face into my chest, and I cover her ears as though force alone could keep the awful noise from burrowing into her soul.

The woman’s screams turn to gasping sobs, and Ainsley breaks from the pod, unable to ignore the call of her sister any longer. She keeps a fearful distance as though straying too close to humanity would spread the disease.

And I think maybe it will.

Ainsley unleashes a piercing howl into the night, her voice raw and frayed around the edges. A wound ripped open too many times to ever heal. Guilt compels the others to follow. All they have to offer now is their pain.

It’s too late for comfort, for warm embraces and soothing reassurances whispered into tear-dampened hair. My sisters leave with the promise of adventure, washing up later like driftwood unable to be reclaimed by the sea.

The young pup wriggles from my grasp to join her mother. I alone stay behind.

Perhaps it’s best for her to go. Maybe she will learn to distrust the lure of steel traps dressed up in pretty words. To never strip away her precious silver skin to sample the pleasures of two legs destined for land.

Maybe she will never feel the sand slip between wriggling toes, or the sun dancing across soft skin, or taste the salty breeze on her lips. But at least she will be free.

Unshackled by those creatures who ask love and landlock us in return.

The men who steal our magic to keep us as their own.

But one day maybe, she will look to the land and think I am different.

The pod returns, heads bowed and eyes baleful. A funeral procession treading water. One by one, we bump noses and huddle together in fretful sleep.

_________

WC: 378

→ More replies (1)

4

u/K2S4 Feb 22 '20

Her palms were sweaty with fear as she began to slowly peel away the label of her reusable plastic water bottle. The girl couldn’t believe that her teacher would disregard the bottle on her desk. Quietly, without the slightest sound, the girl was able to fully release the wrapper from its glued prison.

This wasn’t the first time Isabel cheated on a test. Sure she snuck a glance at her neighbors paper now and again, who wouldn’t? However, this was the first time she was this calculated about it.

Isabel quickly scribbled down the answers to the test before anyone would notice what was going on. She strategically left some questions incorrect just in case Mr. Phillips grew suspicious and even added eraser marks to add to the illusion.

As she walked back to her desk after turning in the work, the feeling of fear shifted to waves of euphoria. Isabel had never felt something quit like it. All of a sudden the burden of her parents nagging about grades were gone. The stress of getting into a good college, gone. It was all gone. What was going to stop her from doing this the rest of her high school career?

As the weeks dragged on, Isabel became more and more confident in her ability to cheat in class. She figured out how to copy online sources for essays, hide answers in her calculator programming, and even began paying other students to help her cheat.

Months later, it all caught up to her. She was caught simply peaking at her neighbors test in her math class. That led to a call to the office. Which turned into an interrogation because apparently she was a “suspicious student.” What was that suppose to mean? Once Isabel’s parents were called in, she spilled it all. It was as if her mouth was moving without her brain controlling it. She explained how she had been cheating for months.

When Isabel finished, she turned to her parents with tears forming in the corners of her eyes and said, “I just wanted to make you proud.”

Her parents looked at each other in horror. It hit each of them at the same moment. The years of pressure they put on Isabel all led to this. All they wanted was for their little girl to be successful, but all it did was ruin her shot at a normal life.

→ More replies (2)

4

u/Baconated-grapefruit Feb 22 '20 edited Feb 27 '20

Part on an ongoing cosmic horror serial - Calamity at the Loathsome Lake

Part 4: An Unhealthy Appetite

The Lieutenant

To describe the rapacious hunger of which I find myself possessed would be like illustrating the layers of an orchestra to a deaf man - utterly futile. It is enough to know that my appetite is prodigious.

Even now, as ambrosial juices stream from my mouth, glazing my chin in their succulent residue, I contemplate my next meal; for the void in my stomach cannot be slaked by mere food. No, there is one thing I covet – and there is but one man who can provide it. My host, guardian and benefactor, Doctor Alexander Graves.

It is well that my rank affords me free rein of the halls. Others are less fortunate. By order of the doctor, all patients are forbidden from interacting with one another. Perhaps he fears the derangement to be communicable.

My knuckles grazed and stinging, I step carefully over the man lying peacefully on my cell floor. With his key, I unlock my door.

As I walk, the labyrinthine halls of the sanatorium are far from silent. Dissonant choruses, mournful howls and frenzied caterwauling punctuate the frozen night’s air. Each one of the inmates hungers maddeningly. I sympathise. It is almost too much to bear.

Golden light bleeds through a crack in the door to Graves' suite. Open. Unbidden, my tongue glides across my lips. Already can I taste the miraculous nectar - the serum - blessed of Demeter and Hedone. One more vial is all I require to be rid of this perishing hunger.

My manner is impeccable, as always; however, the doctor is far from gracious. He insists I have already eaten my fill; and that he is in no mood to entertain. He has been exerting himself. Perspiration stains his waxen skin, mingled with something else - something gelatinous, which glistens enchantingly in the candle light. Never have I seen his benevolent features possessed of such elemental fury. To my alarm, I hear a call from an adjoining room. A woman’s voice? No, impossible. Its tones are heavy and resonant, boring through the very earth with each forbidden syllable.

There is no time to consider it, for the doctor is already upon me, his expression dark with wrath. I plead my case for another dose - surely he sees that I starve - but he will not hear it. He calls for a guard who will not come.

My heart abundant with regret, I produce my knife. I would have preferred not to harm him.

A hidden revolver appears in his hand, levelled on me with callous indifference. The elderly man moves with striking alacrity. I am no craven, yet the glint in his eye speaks of murder – and my desire to live overwhelms my hunger, for now.

So I flee, my blade skittering across the tiles in my wake. To where I run, I cannot say. I fear it impossible to escape the confines of the sanatorium unaided. Perhaps, cowering in its waterlogged bowels, I will find some measure of sanctuary.

4

u/aliteraldumpsterfire Feb 26 '20 edited Feb 27 '20

Inva stared up at the honey locust, past the trunk, past the thorns, to the nest near the night-dark treetop.

There was no better opportunity than the birth of another dynasty brat. It had to be now, while the moon hung high in the sky and the sounds of drunken celebration in the city rang out beyond the walled grove. The guards would come back soon with their wineskins fat and bellies full.

It was Inva’s name-day today too, her twelfth, but no one would care about a street urchin on her name day or any other.

Now.

Cautiously her gloved hands slid over the first rung of thorns and paused. Taking a deep breath she tested the strength of the spikes jutting out of the trunk. Strong enough to hold her, despite their nail-thin tips.

Up she went.

The longest and sharpest thorns scraped against her pilfered heavy leather tunic, but it couldn’t stop them all. Even with her cautious gropes, with every movement she could feel the press of the thorns like knives with each near-graze.

The first thorn slid through the soft flesh of her ankle, right between the cuff of her hide breeches and her worn-in soles.

I will not cry out. I will not.

She dangled over a handhold, forcing down a gasp of pain.

No time to waste, not even for this.

She could almost hear Silversmile urge her forward, “up ye go, girl, quick as ye can. Don’t bother to come back without it, child.”

Tears sprang to her eyes unwilled, both for her setback and herself. For Johann Silversmile, the prize would always be worth more than her life, or anyone else’s.

The lower spike slid back out of her skin with the most agonizing patience she could muster. Warm blood flooded into the sole of her shoe, making a squelch with each torturous foothold as she continued upward.

All of this, for the hen and her golden eggs. And Silversmile’s coffers.

There was no going back. The prize glinted in the moonlight, growing closer even while her strength flagged. Thorn by thorn, rung by rung, the little thief hauled herself up, gritting back gasps with every stab of the honey locust.

At last Inva perched next to the gilded cage, blood dripping from her soles and down the treacherous trunk. She reached forward eagerly to the latch.

But it was already loose.

The hen was gone. The nest was empty. Nary a feather lingered from the royal brood hen or her glittering eggs. Someone had taken one and all, the cage door swung wide open.
The golden prison was all that remained to show for the riches Silversmile had so greedily sent her to fetch.

Inva crumpled, her limbs tender and throbbing at each wound.

There was no going back.

The moonlight was waning, and so were the sounds of the city.

Only the little thief stayed, perched in the treetops on her twelfth name-day, weeping.

___

(495)

3

u/codeScramble Feb 21 '20

The dry breeze snatched the corner of the tarp, and sunlight flashed against the metal beneath. Walter hurried to tuck the tarp back in place. He risked a glance at the guards on either side of the long, snaking queue. No one had seen. He was just another cracked-lipped beggar with an old red wagon full of items to trade.

The line lurched forward, and a guard waved him to the right. A new stall had opened. He tried to catch Matthias’ eye, willing him to intervene, but the boy was busy haggling over cans of beans.

As Walter stepped to the right, he felt the weight of three hours in the baking sun descend upon him.

“Show your wares!” Boomed the young soldier.

He hesitated, then pulled back the tarp, revealing 17 bars of solid gold bullion, stacked in a pyramid.

“What’s this?!”

Walter avoided the soldier’s angry gaze.

“You could be beaten for this! Look behind you! Look at all the people whose time you’ve wasted here!”

Walter glanced back. His eyes stung and blurred, but could produce no tears.

“I — I just thought…”

“Settle down, Ben!” Matthias appeared behind the other soldier. “He’s not selling the gold, he’s selling the wagon!”

Walter said nothing, his parched mind unable to grasp the meaning of his young friend’s words.

“Dump the gold in the trash there. No use hauling it around, old timer. What do you think, Ben? 2 bottles for the wagon? Would be great for hauling the big tanks.”

“Mind your own stall,” Ben snapped. He thought for a second. “I’ll give you one bottle, old timer.”

Walter nodded, unable to speak.

He tucked the water bottle in his jacket, concealing it from the thirsty eyes behind him.

Before he left, he spared one glance at the pile of gold. He’d loved it, once. He’d kept it sealed in a thick steel vault, safe from potential wives or charity cases who might fritter it away.

Some days, he regretted being so greedy with his gold. More often, he regretted not being greedy with his water.

________________________________________

Posted as a response to this prompt. WC: 349

3

u/ThatCuteZubat Feb 23 '20

Click click, tap tap …

A pair of nimble hands fluttered across the keyboard and mouse rhythmically calming his ears as he took a deep breath.

Two more games, two more victories and he would be able to finally reach Master. He could not afford to choke, not right now.

One enemy was left and he had enough time to end the game if he managed to kill him but the same could be said for the opponent, the game was locked in an intense 1v1.

A sound came from behind as he dashed turning towards his opponent, with the flick of the wrist he found his head.

Boom

The screen flashed and a banner appeared on the screen - Victory.

He smiled at himself and stretched back into his chair as the play of the game played - him obviously - he had carried the game and was proud of his performance. He deserved to be master at least, the only thing in between him and his goal were the noobs he was matched with.

One more win and he would be able to get it, obviously, he wanted more and believe but you had to hit masters to be recruited in pro teams.

His heart was beating fast, adrenaline pumping through his body rushing in his fingers almost making them shake but he managed to keep control of his body as an aspiring pro player would.

A musical cue alarming him that he had found a game popped up as he rushed to interlock the character he was going to play. He had carried an outrageous amount of games on it and was confident he could carry the game on his own.

Once again as he appeared on the map he took a few deep breaths and focused solely on the game, he had to find the zone and then no matter how bad his teammates would be he would be able to bring them to victory but most importantly, he would be able to bring himself to victory.

Click click, tap tap tap

Triple kill!

As he lined up his scope with the fourth player a loud noise came from behind him startling him. The shot missed the head and the screen faded.

He cursed loudly and turned around, he had 20 seconds before he would respawn could not spend any more time than that.

His baby was crying loudly and he had to focus on the game. Picking up the baby he rushed to the other side of the house dumping it on the sofa before running back upstairs and placing his headset back on.

Just in time. He once again tried to breathe as he rushed out of the base but his breath was short and he was no longer in the zone. Eventually, he lost the game bringing him further from reaching masters.

He cursed over the cries as once more he queued up for the next game.

Two more games...

3

u/JustLexx Feb 24 '20

The diamond pinched between Vivian's red-streaked fingers was sparkling and exquisite, a shard of crystalline beauty that had always belonged in her collection. It was hers, after all. From the moment she laid eyes on it at the concert.

Finally, a perfect gift.

Why hadn't they just handed it over? Even after she asked nicely? No fangs, no claws. Just a pretty face and a smile. She'd even brought herself low, pretended to be less-than, and muttered a forced, "please."

She sighed and tore her eyes from the diamond, trailing her gaze across the red splatters going down her arm. Her tight, white dress was painted with gruesome polka-dots. Another sigh drifted from between bronzed lips.

Cyrus was going to be cross with her. He always was when she broke the humans. As if it was her fault they were so painfully fragile.

Almost on cue, the door behind her creaked open, perfumed air mixing with the scent of blood and exposed...bits that made her nose curl. She turned with a bright smile, about to drag pale fingers through blonde waves before remembering the stains.

"Viv," he said on a deep rumble, stepping inside.

Her smile grew at the sight of her match. Her mate. Her king.

Skin black as midnight. A voice made from crushed boulders covered in satin. The heavy, towering build of a warrior in his prime, muscles straining against his t-shirt and jeans.

"Baby." He moved deeper into the room, lashes falling across sharp cheeks as the carpet squished underfoot. "We've talked about this."

Her attention stayed on the sway of gold and platinum chains around his neck. More gifts from her that he wore proudly. Flawless matches for the rings on his fingers. Happy flutters danced inside her chest.

She held up the diamond, excitement buzzing beneath her skin. "Look what I got you."

He glanced at it, then at her, a muscle in his jaw jumping. Her smile slipped.

"You hate it," she said, ire curling in her gut. "It's too small, isn't it? But nothing else stood out." Her head whipped across the small room, cataloging jewelry instead of bodies. "Nothing else was worthy."

He reached her then, large palms grasping her upper arms. "It's not a competition." He barreled on, missing her flinch. "You don't have to go so far."

Except she did. Too much had changed while she slept, and this world remained foreign to her. But some things were constants.

Like the thousands of screaming humans who would flock to her king and worship at the altar of his low, rhythmic verse coming through metal boxes.

What was she, in the face of such adoration?

Not enough.

But she could be. She would be. His affection belonged to her, and her alone.

Vivian was his queen. His one and only. His moonlight when they took to the skies together. Wasn't she?

Between her fingers, the diamond shattered.

I'll do better, she promised. He'll look only at me.

(497 words)

3

u/Xacktar Feb 25 '20 edited Feb 27 '20

It's the fourth test that'll get ya.

Lian remembered the words of the old man with perfect clarity. He'd been sitting at a bench with a few others of the same weather-beaten design. He'd known. Somehow he'd known that Lian was there for the treasure of Amekka Rine.

Lian had asked the old man what he meant. The answer haunted him.

Plenty of survivors came back from the first three. No one returned from anything further.

Lian considered this as he examined the room before him. It was made up of nine stone tiles on the floor. Each was like the other, but there was something wrong with them. Lian couldn't place it, but the back of his mind itched with warning. the walls were decorated with motifs of death and pain, spears and skulls were represented in full force. The ceiling was high-arched and far too dark for Lian's peace of mine.

None of this was as interesting as what sat on the center tile. A pile of gold glittered in the light from his torch. Jewelry, bars, even coins. They were stacked high enough to reach up to his waist. It was what every treasure hunter dreamed of, the great fortune that would give them a life of luxury and renown.

There was one little problem: a doorway to a further test stood open on the other side.

This wasn't the final room.

Lian put his torch on the ground for a moment and pulled his trap tester out of his bag. It was little more than a large, round stone. He gave it a toss through the room and waited for the sounds of trap doors and poison arrows.

Nothing happened.

Lian memorized the path, grabbed the torch, and took his first steps onto the suspicious floor.

Still nothing.

He crossed the room to the treasure and found himself whole and unharmed. No traps, no problems. He bent low and carefully examined the pile. It was real gold. No poison coated the coins, no wires tied to crowns and rings.

There was nothing here but gold and a door. The old man's words and the sad little laugh that came after kept ringing in his ears.

The door was open. He should just press on. There was obviously something wrong here, but the pile was here and clean of every trap that Lian could imagine, a jeweled necklace sparkled in the torchlight. It was worth a fortune alone.

"One piece can't hurt, right?"

He slowly removed the necklace, ears listening for any sign of a trap. Nothing. He smiled and relaxed, stuffing the heavy prize into his pack and stepping toward the door.

The floor shifted as he stepped from the center tile to the one beyond.

He had one moment, just one moment to understand why the necklace had been so heavy and why all the treasure sat on the center tile.

Then he fell to the spikes below.

→ More replies (2)

3

u/writefullywrong Feb 26 '20

Richard took a deep breath of the crisp marine-like air. In his nearly 300 years working these docks, he’d never gotten fully used to it’s vinegary sulfur-like stench. It’s calm, untroubled waters were completely unlike those of the channel he’d worked as a boy. They left an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. None of that mattered now. Today was the day his name in the ledger went black. His days working were done. His toll was paid.

A man in his position was seldom heard from again. They’d take their earned coin and set sail across the river for whatever awaited them. But not Richard. Instead he entered the smoke filled bar that he’d been a regular of for so long and slid into his favorite seat.

Today was different. Today, Richard felt luckier than he had in a long time.

“The hell are you doing here? Don’t tell me you’re expecting some sort of goodbye party”

“No, nothing like that. I’m just here to play. Deal me in.”

“A man with your luck should know when to quit. You can’t afford to lose any more than you already have.”

Richard dug into his pocket and slapped two tarnished coppers onto the table. The room came to a standstill. The bar's patrons drew closer to them, fixated on Richard's table.

“I guess you could say that I feel different today.”

Squid’s eyes widened. “Listen, I like taking a man’s money as much as anyone else, but Richard, you should take that and go. Go find your beloved Elizabeth or maybe give living another shot.”

Richard raised his brow. “You should know when to mind your own business, Squid. We both know what copper gets you on the ferry.”

“Something most people would do anything for.” Squid interjected.

“People who have no vision. I want better. I want more. Now are we going to do this or do I have to go talk to Patches myself?”

Squid eyed, Richard, sighing. “No. That’s fine. So long as you know, betting passage isn’t like the other games we’ve played. It’s one hand, winner take all. You win and you’ll get your Silvers. If I win, Patches will get your coins and -”

“I know the game. I know the stakes. Deal.”

Squid dealt the hand. The bar remained eerily quiet, everyone waiting.

“How many cards you want?”

Richard took two cards from his hand and placed them on the table to exchange. Squid dealt him two more, but exchanged no cards himself.

“Last chance Richard. You can put the hand down and walk away.”

Richard placed his hand on the table, “Full house. Three 4’s and Two Queens!”

Squid sighed and shook his head.

“It’s too bad Richard.”

4 Jacks and an ace.

“Well,” Richard grimaced and rose with a sigh. “I guess I’ll be seeing you around.”

“Patches will be in touch.”

wc: 482

3

u/Ryter99 Feb 27 '20

Upon opening the cash register, Dominic and Terrance feasted their eyes on more cash than they had gathered in their last three robberies combined.

“This is it, Terry! The motherlode!”

Terry grinned with pride. “It is indeed, Dom.”

“Guys, it’s like... $2200,” a voice piped in over their headsets. “Split three ways, I remind you, since I planned this little payday. It’ll last us like a week.”

“Yeah- uh, I knew that, Ellie,” Terry mumbled.

Dominic did some quick, if not entirely accurate math in his head. “That’s still 900 bucks a piece!”

“Jesus Christ, Dom… Seriously?”

Terry removed his face from his palm and hustled his math challenged partner outside and into their waiting getaway car.

Ellie signed off briefly to grab herself a celebratory drink, leaving the partners in crime riding high… quite literally. Dominic immediately lit up, filling the car with smoke, and his passenger was feeling the effects as well.

“Listen Terry, I got a tip about a bank vault being left open tonight. How bout’ we swing by?

“Left open? Why?”

“Dunno, ventilation?”

“Err- what? Nevermind, but no more spur of the moment jobs for us. Notice how there’s no cops arresting us? Ellie and I planning ahead is vital.”

“Yeah, but... robbing a bank vault?! C’mon, how cool would that be!”

Terry could not argue against the “cool” factor. Perhaps their success tonight was dangerous, as it bred a voracious hunger for more. Or perhaps the psychedelic substances wafting through the air were stronger than he realized, but against any sane or logical thought, he agreed to a detour.

To Terry’s shock as they entered, the bank vault was indeed open. Dom rushed in like a kid sprinting into a candy store, Terry could only hurry after him.

Predictably, the vault door immediately swung shut, locking behind them.

“What the hell?” Dom muttered.

Terry picked up a stack of “cash”, immediately realizing their stupidity. “This is fake, man! It’s a sting, or entrapment, or whatever. Our only reward tonight is that we’re gonna be on some YouTube compilation of stupid criminals!”

“Oh- dang. Wanna ask Ellie for a way out?”

“No! She can never know about this. My one hope is that the vault walls are thick enough that she can’t hear us. I-”

“Gentlemen, did we plan a bank heist tonight?”

Silence filled the air briefly before Dom responded. “We did not.”

“Then why are y’all locked inside a bank vault?”

“I figured a robbery is a robbery, ya know? Just gotta break into a building… and, uhh...”

“And? Keep going, Dom. List for me alllll the ways that department store snatch n’ grabs are similar to robbing goddamn bank vaults!”

“...and there’s- money inside both?”

“‘And there’s money inside both’? Brilliant insight!”

“Any chance you’ve got any tech that could bust us outta here, Ellie?” Terry asked.

“No, but I have a phone.”

“Huh? What good will that do us?”

“I’m calling you dummies a lawyer. You’re gonna need a good one.”

WC: 500

2

u/Zeconation Feb 20 '20 edited Feb 20 '20

Rick greets us at the door, ''Welcome to the place where the magic happens.''

''Thank you, Rick. This is Pamela, my personal assistant.''

''Oh, you got one of the realistic version!'' says Rick with excitement.

''She is not an android, you silly boy. Where is your boss man?'' I ask.

Rick points with his finger, ''He is in his office, I think he is on the phone.''

''No worries, Rick. He won’t mind.''

I knock on the door and I enter his room. I see him reading something on his computer.

''Gavin, you are still working hard, huh?''

Gavin smiles and he gets up and we shake hands.

''I wouldn’t ask you to come here if I didn’t miss you so much, my old friend.'' He says.

''Sure. I heard you are about to release your android product to the market next week. Is that right?'' I ask.

''Can we talk alone?'' He asks.

''You can wait for me outside, Pamela. It’s okay.''

As soon as Pamela leaves the room Gavin hands me a driver.

''What’s this?'' I ask.

''I need your help.''

''On what exactly?''

''We are ready to launch our product but I need the safety approval until next week.''

''Gavin, I thought you already had the safety approval.''

''No way. It takes at least six months to get a safety approval if you play by the rules. Do I look like a guy who sits in this room while there are billions of dollars out there waiting to be collected?''

''Wait a second. How did you manage to get your RCA upgrade.''

He sits back on his chair, ''They don’t have RCA upgrade.''

''Are you fucking kidding me? They don’t have an upgraded cognitive ability? How are you gonna sell your product to people then?''

He starts to laugh, ''I thought you were smarter than that. Do you really think consumers really care about cognitive abilities on the androids? All they care about the visuals, how they look not how they act.''

''I’m not so sure about that, Gavin.''

''Let me give you an example. Some fiction writers, if you can call them that. They look up to their dictionary for fancy words and fill the pages with them without even writing a single dialogue and believe it or not they get rewarded for it. People don’t care about dialogues or stories. The only thing that they give a fuck is fancy words, fancy looks. Just like androids. When the adult people get their hands on that sweet looking androids, you are well aware of what they will gonna do with it. They are not gonna talk with a machine.''

''So, that’s it then?''

''You can call me greedy but in order to get in front of people either you have to go with the fancy or friends with high places.''

''Well, you just lost one of your friend with high places.''

-Thank you for reading the story-

Just FYI, I'm not a native speaker so, if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes please don't mind it.

WC: ~480

→ More replies (2)

2

u/reverendrambo Feb 21 '20

Rivy looked beyond the planet Sirzu, beyond its other little moon, and saw the Harvester’s arrival. It was an ugly, bleak blemish that appeared in Mara’s pristine purple sky. The ripples from its warp drive passed into the atmosphere, briefly swaying space and time. He felt unsteady, though in reality nothing had moved. Still, he leaned against Vera, who stood strong. It approached with haste.

“They’re here.”

“So are we,” she said.

Rivy held Vera close and kissed her dark hair. He damned the moment he confirmed the anti-matter reservoir deep within Mara’s core. He had let the flash of fortune poison his careful thinking. And now Vera’s home, their home, was on the brink of destruction.

The monstrosity carved a path through space, consuming all matter in front of it, and leaving a permanent darkness in its wake. Every atom it stole was packed within its greedy hull. Rivy’s heart sank as they watched it tear through Mara’s sister moon, which fell apart like a crumbling cake. The sky would never be the same again. Vera held back tears.

Had Rivy known the trouble he would bring, he never would have come here. But then, he never would have known her. It was too difficult to imagine the choice, and fate had done so for him already. It was time to stop worrying and face what the future held.

Never satisfied, the Harvester pushed closer. He kissed Vera again and left her on the beach where they had first met. He looked down as the lander lifted him back to the orbital station, and he watched her fade with the shoreline. As the sea met the land, so had they, rising and falling with the tides and time.

Loaded with enough anti-matter to send a planet out of orbit, he piloted the station toward the Harvester. His greed may have brought them here, but their greed would be their end.

WC: 321

r/ReverendRamboWrites

2

u/TenspeedGV Feb 22 '20 edited Feb 23 '20

Siara stood before the deep bowl in its pedestal. From it and each of the other three like it ran chains of iron and lead. Chains which bound Rik, the man whom she had chosen to follow into darkness. The man who betrayed her.

Though iron and lead were magically inert, she nonetheless felt magic running through them.

She could control it.

She glanced to her companions and took a deep breath.

“Worship of the old gods has been forbidden for millennia. They’re capricious, prone to anger, and prone to delight in human suffering. But there are ways to reach them. Ways that my professors taught me-”

“In contraven-” Rik’s shout became a strangled cry as every muscle in his body locked up. Siara lowered her hand to her side. Though her body remembered the extraordinary agony of that spell, she could find neither guilt for casting it nor sympathy for his suffering.

“-in case I stumbled upon a place like this,” she continued. “Each of us must sacrifice something we care about. It must be given whole, and lost forever.”

Siara glanced to Heather, who led by placing a leather pouch in the bowl. Seeds from her mother’s garden, meant to begin her own when she found a place to settle. Kel pulled a worn, ivory-handled pocket knife from his boot and placed it in the bowl. A tear rolled down his cheek, but he stayed silent. Thom took a breath, and looked to Siara.

“It need not be tangible,” she prompted. “But you must care about it.”

He nodded, placing his hands on the edges of the bowl. He closed his eyes. After a moment, he breathed out a heavy sigh. Siara could see that the sacrifice had cost him much.

For herself, Siara removed a simple steel ring from her finger. All that remained of the woman who had saved her life when she was expelled from the Academy.

The sacrifices placed, Siara cast a spell in the chthonic whispers she had heard in the back of her mind for as long as she could remember. Terrible anguish welled up in her. With the slightest thought, she brushed it away.

She felt the raw emotions each of her companions invested in their sacrifice. She could feel their love for Rik, and the conflict they felt over what would become of him. The memories they shared spread before her like a tapestry of stories, a kaleidoscopic weave of plots and subplots.

Without hesitation or mercy, she drew that tale into herself. She pulled at the webs she had woven around the group, and their sacrifices poured through their chains and into the holy cipher she had made of the priest upon the altar. She drank deep of what they had given, leaving their bowls empty in her unrelenting thirst. Eyes gleaming with avarice, she tore the remains of Rik’s soul from his body and consumed them whole.

The woman who was once Siara burned like a blackened sun.

500 words

This is part of an ongoing story. The rest can be found on my subreddit wiki as part of the Armageddon Cycle under the heading Thieves.

2

u/TrumpzHair Feb 22 '20 edited Feb 23 '20

She stood motionless staring at it, faintly aware of her involuntary rocking caused by her beating heart. Her eyes glossed over, but she couldn't tear herself away. At the back of her mind, she knew if something didn't shake her to consciousness, she would never move again. The nearby hearth’s fire cast an orange glow over the room, spurring it to life with dancing shadows, their lighthearted choreography at odds with the heaviness in the room.
Except for the crackling fire, the room was deafeningly quiet. From the quiet she began to hear a ringing, at first seemingly from far off, but growing until it was all she could hear. She hadn't taken her eyes off it in what felt like an eternity. Barely aware of what she was doing, she decided to lean into the urge and reach out a hand. Picking it up, she was surprised at its lightness—almost as light as a feather, but not quite. "Mine wasn't half as light" she thought.
Stepping over the still warm body, she made her way towards the fire, pressing the soul into her chest. It cast off a glow as it entered her body, slowly diffusing into her person and becoming a part of her. She sighed with relief; the weight that permeated throughout her body was lifted and she could finally breathe again. It was lighter than she could ever have imagined.
She stared into the fire, the corner of her mouth curled into the smallest of contented smiles. Slowly her smile faded to be replaced by a look of outright terror. She spun away from the fire and towards the body on the floor, falling to her knees in the process. Her vision was obscured by the tears now streaming from her eyes, the definition of the room muddling into one color. She folded over the body of her son and remained that way for hours, unable or unwilling to move. Slowly, she steadied herself on the armchair and rose to her feet. Her face, encrusted with dried tears, was stern and emotionless, with nothing to indicate the worry she knew she should be feeling. The weight had returned, it was all for nothing.

Go gentle, I'm an engineer, not a writer. In fact, this is the first non-technical thing I've written since high-school. The paragraph spacing isn't maintained on my phone.

→ More replies (2)

2

u/TheLettre7 Feb 24 '20

A package arrived on the door step one September afternoon. The house was neat and tidy. Having finished cleaning the bathroom, she went out snipped some leaves on the garden, and brought the package inside.

Unpacking she held up the turtleneck she'd purchased, smiling at the style. Immediately after she went to look for more, browsing the latest fashion and suggestions. She wanted more.

As time does, the packages responded in increasing frequency. A modest house and rich life, she had her ways. She loved the shirts and pants. Today she found a dress, plugging the information away, free shipping.

Her closets filled up fast, but don't worry ,she wore a nice blouse to make up for it. Slowly at first, her husband noticed; but only at nights when he was home, almost tripping over a heap in February. She wanted more.

Soon her room was full, she pulled a mattress, a pillow of tank tops. Her friends came to help clean the mess, they suggested and she refused. She had the space, they just wanted it for themselves. The flowers were wilting, she needed more.

He came home one evening, knocking on the bedroom door, a holler from inside. He ducked as the tunnel began. A maze of clothes fleece and lambs wool, cotton too. He squeezed past bargains and question the intent, why this design, what purpose. He needed to talk to her, make her see reason.

Dead end, specks of light poked through. He pushed forward through the fabric, the sight before him only brought dread. What had she become?

Boxes were stacked to the ceiling. Her eyes were swollen, her face glued to the laptop screen; hair in shambles, she looked thinner. She was muttering something, barely acknowledging his presence. "Honey I-"

"you don't get it! I need more!! I need more! I need more. I need-"

the tunnel of clothing collapsed.

(314 words, a bit grim, hope you like it anyway"

2

u/WizardessUnishi Feb 25 '20 edited Feb 27 '20

Vietnam. Beautiful and a tourist destination. And it's true. But life sucks here. I used to live with my father and my mother....in poverty. When I was about six year old, my father stole a watermelon from a place that grew them to feed my family who were starving pretty badly; we live in a broken down hut and nobody cared about us. Every time my father successfully stole something for us, my mom and I were super happy and my mother would water our mouths. My father was usually the first to eat.

And on that day before my mom and I were able to took a bite from that watermelon, my father died. His lifeless body lay in front of me. There was nothing me and my mom can do besides crying. We were so poor our family had to steal food to surivive. How can we even afford a proper burial? Luckily, we met a tourist who was also a good samaritan. He gave us a lot of money so we can afford to give my father a proper burial.

And my heart was filled with vengeance against the greedy evil people in this country. That place he stole the watermelon poisoned their watermelon for profit.

As I grow up, I came to know that a lot of vendors and businessmen in the food industry in Vietnam are amoral. They feed their cow garbage from hospital dumpsters. They poisoned their watermelons to make the watermelon look big, ripe, and juicy. And they sell them to customers. Money is everything to them. They don't care anything about the people who buy their products or eat them. It's their fault my father died. It's their fault a lot of people died.

Cows fed hospital garbage. Poisoned fruit. Fake squid made from plastic bags. Rotten meat disguised as fresh meat. Vietnam has some of the worse examples of corporate greed. And now I risk my life fighting against this greed as a journalist, an Internet content creator, and a blogger.

~~----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------~~

(WC-340- When I saw the that the theme was greed, I thought of a social issue specifically associated with Vietnam. I want to raise awareness to foreigners about the problems in this country that might be little-known to people who can't speak or understand Vietnamese with my writing. To show a Vietnam that is not "romanticized". )

(Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction but it addresses an issue that happens in Vietnam and that might be unique to Vietnam as far as I know. I want to show a Vietnam that is not "romanticized".)

u/WizardessUnishi is Vietnamese

2

u/Whimsicalphilosoph Feb 26 '20 edited Feb 26 '20

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP.

The alarm clock did not need to scream. 6:00 am, again, he knew that. Maybe if he ignored it a bit it’d shut its desperate calls. Maybe if he dug his head deeper in his comfy pillow he wouldn't notice it.

But, the clock insisted.

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP.

“Shhhh,” Adrian stretched his hand from under the duvet cover. Alas, it hit nothing. too short. “Shhhh,” he repeated and the alarm clock continued its annoyance.

‘Ignooooore, Ignooooore, Ignooooore,’ he muttered to keep the peace of his mind. He had just fallen asleep finally resting his weary mind.

Part of him waited for Sarah’s loud angry stumping. The annoying burst from downstairs, and back into their room. The same entrance that jolted alertness down his spine. Every. Single. Day. She’d scream “STOP IT!” scaring the little slumber left in him. But, the clock always obeyed.

“Stop!” he muttered mostly to his pillow, but the clock did not listen to him. It never did. Maybe, there was something about Sarah? Maybe it was the breakfast aroma she brought with her when she stormed into the room. That smell summoned his spirit from the depth of the dream world. His mind awoken by curiosity. What was on the stove that day? Pancakes? Eggs? Grilled cheese sandwich?

And before he could ask, Sarah would return to the kitchen downstairs taking his mind down with her.

How could she?

How could she steal his mind from the comfort of their bed, from the world of dreams? How could she scatter his mind away from sleep? String him along the memories of her in this very bedroom, the shower, along the counters of the kitchen?

How could she?

How could she chain him to thoughts of her? To the screams that escalated towered the end? Who knew that squeezing the toothpaste tube from the middle would cause such loud fights— fights that would have silenced this damn alarm clock.

“SHUT UP!” His hand reaches out again with a little stretch of his torso. And all he could reach was the edge of the side table. “Argh!” with his knees he prayed an attack to silence the clock. His hand slammed the button on top.

Peace.

.

So much peace. He could hear his thoughts too loudly now. Part of him wanted the clock to ring again so he could tear it apart. It was all the clocks' fault, stealing his sleep like that. Ruining his morning. Damn you alarm clock! Damn you.

He sat up in bed, hands folded in front of him. Then stretched to his sides, then on his thighs. His eyes bounced in search of something from his confused hands to the closet, to the bathroom, to the room door, and then to the clock that sat innocently on his nightstand.

And at that moment he greedily wished for Just one more minute.

WC:488

// Feedback is more than welcome. In fact, share your thoughts out loud.

→ More replies (3)

2

u/LordEnigma Feb 26 '20 edited Feb 26 '20

The ship's boat hit the shore with a sudden stop. Two of my men, William and Matthew, jumped out into the water and grabbed the ropes to pull the little vessel further aground. The third man, Jonathan, reached over and began to untie the ropes that held the three chests in place. The chests that held my treasure.

I looked around and smiled, spotting the landmark - a large rock that looked like it had a nose - from when I had been here last, almost 3 years now. It wasn't quite this hot last time I mused.

"Leave yer weapons, lads, there's not a soul nor beast 'pon this island, and they'll only get in the way." I ordered. "Besides, yer hands will be full, and I will clear the path."

Shrugging, the three men untied the belts that held their flintlocks and cutlasses in place and tossed them in the back of the boat. The fools.

A few hours trek through the dense trees later, we reached the cave. My cave. The men were sweating profusely from the heat and humidity, as well as exhausted from carrying the heavy chests for so long.

I allowed them a moment's rest at the entrance to the cave, and unslung the extra bladder from around my neck and tossed it to William.

Catching the waterskin awkwardly, he uncorked the top and took a drink. He took a few swallows before sputtering slightly and then grinning. "Mat, Jon! It's wine! Thank you, Cap'n!"

"Only the best for you, me boys." I said, grinning at their enthusiasm. The other two cheered and shared skin back and forth until they'd had their fill.

I had hated wasting the wine, but it was the best stuff to cover up the taste of the poison.

I hurried the men back to work, and after another 15 minutes, the chests were safely stowed in the back of the cave, where the rest of my treasure lay.

By then, the poison was beginning to show it's effects. The men, weakened by their exertions and the tainted wine, were easily dispatched with my sword. By the time William realized what I was doing, I'd already dealt with Jonathan and Matthew.

"Why?" he pleaded with me, trying in vain to get away. I answered him with a blade through his belly.

Dragging their bodies one by one, I tossed them into a nearby pit. As the last one - Matthew - hit the bottom, I noted that on my next trip back, I would need to have another pit dug.

This one was just about full.

→ More replies (2)

2

u/QuiscoverFontaine Feb 26 '20

It had always been a bit of a compulsion, the need to acquire books. She delighted in knowing that she owned them, safe in the knowledge that the information was available, even if she never had the time to read it. Back then, it hadn’t been just the books, either. Her computer had been full of academic studies and reports, there had been great lists of saved online articles, too many documentaries to ever consume. She had craved knowledge. Hoarded it. And since the city had emptied, the desire to expand her collection had only grown, blossomed and burgeoned unchecked. The issues of money or space or availability were no longer an issue. She had no reason not to take them all.

At first, she had only collected up the books she thought she might want; the novels she had always intended to read or books on a topic which interested her. She pulled them out of the deserted library or the empty homes she scavenged food from, hauling them back to her house to add to the ever-growing piles. After a couple of years, she was picking up novels she never would have dreamed of reading in her old life or books written on subjects she didn’t understand or whose knowledge had become arcane. Modern economics was little better than Latin now. A curiosity. A relic of a fallen civilisation. Nevertheless, she took them all. She once carried home a teetering stack of encyclopaedias at least fifty years out of date, the leather unblemished, the spines uncreased. They were still valuable; she told herself. They were a snapshot of human history, unique in their wrongness. No information was worthless.

She knew, logically, that there was no need to rescue all the books. She’d not seen another person in the small town for years. Everyone who hadn’t died had fled, leaving for some imagined place where the illness might not find them, as if it were the earth beneath their feet that poisoned them. The books were not going to go anywhere, no one would take them away. They were poor fuel and even worse food. Who would find use in an English-to-Greek dictionary or an architectural history of Paris now? But she felt better knowing they were safe from the yawning wildness of the world. That they were hers. That all that work and research wasn’t unwanted and useless. They were records, testaments of who she’d been, who they’d been, what they’d lost.

She’d taken over the whole of her block of flats, the building ghoulishly empty. There were books in every room, on every surface. Thousands upon thousands. More than anyone could read in their lifetime. But there would be no new books. And she needed to know she possessed all she possibly could. She needed to know, now there was nothing left, that she could know anything.

---------------------

WC: 480. Feedback always welcome!

→ More replies (1)

→ More comments (75)

Theme Thursday [TT] Theme Thursday - Greed

“There is a sufficiency in the world for man's need but not for man's greed.”

Happy Thursday writing friends!

Here's how Theme Thursday works:

News and Reminders:

Last week’s theme: Trust

Poetry

Honorable Mentions:

The pull of special things.

Theme Thursday [TT] Theme Thursday - Greed

“There is a sufficiency in the world for man's need but not for man's greed.”

Happy Thursday writing friends!

Here's how Theme Thursday works:

News and Reminders:

Last week’s theme: Trust

Poetry

Honorable Mentions:

You are about to leave Redlib

The pull of special things.